Thursday, June 11, 2009


I wish I knew or somehow could sleep "late," sleep until it had been eight hours since I went to bed, lounge-lizard beneath the covers, doze ... something. My kids can do it, but I can't.

When the birds wake up at 4-4:30, I too wake up. And then I realize I have to go to the bathroom. Going to the bathroom requires standing on my feet and once on my feet and having peed, the deliciousness of the time is too much to resist or dispel or replace.

At that time of day, there is little or no interaction required. The chores of a later hour are not permitted: All the stores are closed. The dump hasn't opened. And it would be a lousy time to mow the lawn, even if the lawnmower were in working order. The rest of the world and its possible demands is still a thing of the future. There are no demands. Not even the birds demand or require anything: They just sing whether I listen or not. A time of lightness, though it is still mostly dark.

Later, as now, I realize that a little more sleep would have been a good idea. But old habits die hard.

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